We've been to the Great Land several times. The pages
below are my love song to this place
which calls me back again and again.One day soon we will come home to Alaska, never to leave
again.

~~ ALASKA 2007~~

In late August 2007, we visited the greatest state of
all -- Alaska. We rented an RV and for two weeks,
we drove through this wondrous place. The journey began in Anchorage, and ended
there 14 days later.

We returned to Alaska in August of 2009 for another
two week journey from Anchorage to Valdez, up the
Richardson and west on the Denali Highway to Cantwell,
north to Fairbanks, then south again downthe Parks Highway to Talkeetna, Eklutna, and back to
Anchorage.

Curious to experience a tiny taste of winter in interior
Alaska, in March 2010 we spent a lovely week in Fairbanks.Although at night temps ranged from -10 to -18F, we
had appropriate outerwear and enjoyed many hoursoutdoors in the sun. Extreme cold, as is true with extreme
heat, does not feel so uncomfortable in a dryclimate as it does in a more humid climate.

Another year, another trip north -- my fifth visit,
Rick's ninth. We visited some familiar places -- Seward, Anchorage, Fairbanks,
the Denali Highway -- and enjoyed some new places and experiences. We were
very fortunate to have many sunny dry days, especially in the Kenai Peninsula.

On the front porch of a little cabin just outside
of Fairbanks, there hangs a baritone-voiced wind chime that announces the western
wind with tones that remind one of a Tibetan temple. Its sister hangs in a sheltered
spot in a backyard in the middle of the lower 48. She sings only when the breeze
comes from the north, from Alaska.

We mostly think of places we have known and
loved in terms of visual images, rather than of sound. I have memory cards,
floppy disks, and boxes of prints with Alaskan vistas, scenes, people, wildlife.
Yet it is the sound of my wind chime talking to her twin in Fairbanks that most
brings a swell of longing to my heart.

The songs of Alaska are these. Water rushing
over stones, endlessly speaking of summer days and of the glaciers left behind.
The cry of sea birds following a fishing vessel back to harbor. Prop planes
-- large and small. The hiss of falling snow, the grumble of far-off snowmachines.
Ravens croak, gurgle, growl, and argue. Winds howling down a mountain pass whistle
past your car windows, to remind you who really rules the land. Heavy duty winter
zippers zipping up, and down when back inside the warm -- and the plop-plop
of sandals in the summer! Sandals everywhere, worn with socks of course. Happy
voices (both visitors and sourdoughs) cheering when the Lights dance.

So many sounds that remind me of my home-yet-to-be,
my home-someday-to-be. Maybe some day humans will invent a device to record
all of memory, not just pictures. Until then, I smile when my wind chime talks
to me at dawn, singing of my dear land so far away, but forever near in my spirit.